Two Minds & All the Places They Have Been
by dreamlandwonders7
Summary: Zyla Bree Zone's life has never been stable, let alone normal. She was a child prodigy in the depths of Las Vegas, struggling to keep her mother out of rehab as well as support herself. When she meets Spencer Reid, both their lives change inexplicably, and they will never be the same; which, somehow, turns into troubling doing. [Reid/OFC. Light M.]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hello! I'm Becca. This isn't my first fanfic, but it is my first published work on here. I will refer to this story as Two Minds in the future, just to let you know. This story starts somewhat near the beginning of season four, after JJ had Henry, so there will be spoilers for the show from there on in. There will also be a lot of memories and flashbacks to Spencer's past and also Zyla's, who is my OFC and the main character in this story.

This story is rated M, but keep in mind it's a light M. There will be sexual content, but not too graphic. Other warnings are listed below, and if a specific chapter has something in it (NSFW, violence, sexual assault, etc.) I will post it before every chapter.

My face claim for Zyla is Sky Ferreira (long blonde hair), and my face claim for Andrew Trump (appears in later chapters) is Wentworth Miller; if you're wondering what they look like.

I hope you won't think this chapter is too boring. It should pick up soon, but I'm not quite sure when. Thank you for taking time to read this, and reviews are always appreciated. If you have any concerns about my story, whether it be a typo or a miss of a warning, please tell me and I will try to fix it. Happy reading!

Story Details:

**Title**- Two Minds & All the Places They Have Been

**Author**- dreamlandwonder7 (a.k.a Becca)

**Fandom**- Criminal Minds

**Rating**- Rated M for dark content typical of the show, violence, sexual assault, mild language, mild NSFW, verbal & physical abuse, mild domestic violence, angst, alcohol & drug abuse, family loss

**Summary**- Zyla Bree Zone's life has never been stable, let alone normal. She was a child prodigy in the depths of Las Vegas, struggling to keep her mother out of rehab as well as support herself. When she meets Spencer Reid, both their lives change inexplicably, and they will never be the same; which, somehow, turns into troubling doing. Reid/OFC.

**Disclaimer**- I do not own Criminal Minds, or any of their characters. I'm just playing with them and giving myself feels. No profit is coming from this story.

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><p><strong>Two Minds &amp; All the Places They Have Been<strong>

Chapter One / Ring

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><p>Everybody thinks that Spencer Reid has never been in love, or knew what love even was. Many think that he's still a virgin, even at 26. Nobody really thinks to question his childhood; what friends he could have made, what experiences he could have had.<p>

And, to be quite honest, Spencer liked it this way. He, selfishly, liked to think that what they had, whatever it was, was his little secret. He liked to think that she was his private thoughts, his intimate feelings.

He liked to think that she was his.

However, like all good things, that came to an end. He had believed that it ended with that phone call, but honestly, he was wrong. It was the beginning of another chapter. He just didn't know the terrible cliffhanger looming in the distance.

It was late. He, Emily Prentiss, and Derek Morgan, his trusted colleagues and friends, were sitting in their arranged desks. Morgan was sitting with a federal file on his lap, his feet up on his desk with a coffee in hand. His vision was becoming blurred as his chocolate browns continued sweeping down the page. He was obviously trying to viciously fight an oncoming yawn, but was failing. Prentiss was sitting with her head resting on her hand, red eyes drooping sluggishly as her other hand lay rested around her becoming-cold coffee cup. Laced between her fingers as they rested on her chin was a pen, and she was staring down at the page, reading the same sentence she wrote over and over again sleepily. Spencer was, as always, chugging down black coffee like it was water and reading 20,000 words per minute as he finished reviewing their latest case file.

Aaron Hotchner, the captain of their little squad, was sitting in his office, eyebrows always furrowed as he took phone calls and read over files. He was looking like he could go on sitting in his chair for hours doing that very thing, but in reality, ready to pass out on the spot from exhaustion. David Rossi, on the other hand, did not have the energy nor care for keeping up the workaholic act and was asleep in his chair in the next office over. He was borderline snoring, and had been like that since the first early hours of the night.

Spencer was so entirely engrossed in his work that he didn't even hear his phone ring the first two rings; even as Prentiss jumped about two feet in the air at the sudden noise in front of him. He only engaged in the world around him when Morgan threw a crumpled Post-It note at his head in what was trying to be an annoyed manner, but was actually a little amused.

"Phone, Reid. Answer it." Prentiss said testily, mostly annoyed at both how she had dozed off and that the damned ringing woke her up. Spencer wasted not another minute, not wanting to agitate the agent further.

"This is Dr. Spencer Reid," he answered, sitting up straighter in his chair and rubbing his hands from the bridge of his nose. "Dr. Reid? We have a Marilyn Moriarty here at Mercy Heart Hospital in New York. She has here in her medical files that if anything were to happen to her, we were to call you."

He had froze when her alias was said. Could it be? Could it _actually_ be her? It had been years since he last saw her; sitting in that hospital bed, lying next to her, feeling her flushed skin against his as they held each other. She was crying, and he wiped her tears.

The woman on the phone spoke again, snapping Spencer out of his beloved memory.

"Sir? Dr. Reid?" she questioned. Spencer cleared his throat weakly, his mind working into overdrive. It was filled with so many thoughts, too many thoughts, and all about her.

"Yes, I'm here. What happened?" he quaked, demanding his voice to stay calm and professional.

"Ms. Moriarty came in earlier from a bullet wound to the abdomen. It pierced through the lining of her stomach. It was touch and go for a while, but they got the bleeding under control and patched her up. She should be getting out of the ICU now and into a room." While the woman was talking, Spencer felt a mix of different emotions. Anxiety was the most upfront one. His heart was in his ears, and his hands were shaky. He had felt relief that she had made it, then he recalled the saying of a bullet wound. Someone had shot her. He then felt white-hot anger course through his veins; anger that he had felt only once before, and anger he had promised himself he wouldn't let happen again.

Spencer took a second to get his emotions and thoughts under control, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them again and having another professional face on. "I will be there first thing." he spoke, then hung up without another word. She was back.

Zyla was back.

And she was hurt.

Spencer pushed that thought out of his mind for now as he stood from his desk in a controlled frenzy, not even caring that Prentiss and Morgan had been eyeing and listening to him the entire phone call. Both were now wide awake, and staring with both suspicion and worry for their friend.

"Reid? What's going on?" Morgan asked, his feet now planted firmly on the ground. Spencer didn't answer at first. He pulled his growing hair back behind his ears as he gathered his things and stuffed them warily into his bookbag and slung it over his shoulder. "I'm going home, I-I don't feel very well. I'm thinking I might take tomorrow off too. I'm going to go tell Hotch."

He left without another word to his friends and made his way up the stairs to his boss's office. He peeked his head in the door. "I'm going home, and I won't be in tomorrow." he said, wringing his hands together anxiously as he stood under the door frame.

Hotch glanced up for a moment, only to look back up and observe closer at his colleague. He was showing obvious signs of anxiety; fidgeting hands, excessive blinking, no eye contact. Something was bothering him, and it was something that made him need to flee. "Are you okay, Reid?" he asked, staring him down.

The lie that was bubbling to Reid's mouth instantly faltered, and he was left silent, mouth slightly agape. Of course they would see right through him. "Uh, no. I'm not. I need to go to New York, and I probably won't be in the next couple days." he spoke honestly.

Hotch frowned in suspicion, and in concern. "What's happened?" Spencer cleared his throat, dropping his hands to his sides as he entered the room further, standing in front of his desk. "It's a long story. The short version is that my best friend from Las Vegas got shot in New York, and she just got out of surgery."

Hotch set down his pen, standing up. "Is she okay?" he asked, sincere. Spencer nodded faintly. "They said that it was touch and go for a while, but she'll be okay. She just needs me right now, and-"

"No, you go. Take as much time as you need. Just- take care of yourself. You haven't slept in 24 hours." Hotchner said, arms crossed. Spencer nodded again, a look of gratitude and what looked like relief brought out a very weak smile. He quickly walked out of the room, where Morgan and Prentiss was watching him, their go-bags in hand and seemingly waiting for him.

"What are you guys doing?" Spencer demanded, stopping in front of them. "We're going with you." Prentiss answered simply. Spencer scoffed lightly, and started walking towards the elevator, the two following closely behind. "Why?" he asked, hitting the button down.

"Because you look like you need some company, and there's no way in hell we're letting you go alone, kid. So it'd be better if you just shut up about it and told us what's going on." Morgan said. The elevator dinged open, but Spencer took a moment before entering, having a feeling of comfort at how much his friends care about him. He swallowed a small lump forming in his throat as he entered the elevator, Prentiss and Morgan following. The doors shut and they went down.

"It's a long story." Spencer spoke faintly. His voice seemed to fade, and his eyes looked like they were in a different time, and a different place.

"Well, kid," Morgan said, looking ahead as the doors slid open. "We've got time."


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Minds & All the Places They Have Been**

Chapter Two / Back to the Start

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><p>"<em>Ooh, look, it's the boy genius."<em>

"_You think you're so much better than us, don't you?"_

"_Please, just give it back!" Spencer Reid, age 7, cried, trying to reach his favorite book, which was held up in the air by Jace Brown and Carl Rogers. They were the biggest bullies in his grade, and Spencer was their favorite victim. When he was reading his mother's book underneath the shade of a big oak tree, they took it from him and now won't give it back._

_Jace took it from Carl, and the cover ripped off. Spencer's face crumpled as the two boys laughed, dropping the torn book in the dirt. Spencer hardly noticed as a girl, wearing a torn, painted tutu and cowboy boots, stomped up to the two laughing boys._

"_Hey! Why'd you do that?" the girl said, with a twang of a fake British accent. The boys' laughter faltered just slightly as Spencer looked up from his destroyed book and stared in shock as nine-year-old Zyla Zone came and defended him against his tormentors. _

"_Oh come on, Zyla, it's just Reid-" Carl was interrupted as Zyla promptly punched him in the nose, sending him to his knees as blood spilled on his chin._

"_Hey-!" Zyla sent a kick in Jace's privates as the angry eleven-year-old ran her way, and he fell in a clump beside Carl, who had started to cry. Both quickly got up and ran off, screeching. _

_Spencer looked at the scene in shock, wondering if Zyla was going to come his way next. They didn't really go off on a good start when they first met a couple years ago, and a rivalry of "who was the best student?" had begun. She has hardly looked his way, and now she just beat up two bullies? _

_Zyla picked up his torn book, dusting off the dirt. "I'm sure I can fix it at my house with some tape. Would you like me to?"_

_Spencer didn't answer her at first. He took in her appearance again. She was always a little strange, which was weird coming from him, but right now she looked very troubling. Her tutu was obviously once a very pretty pale blue, and was torn what looked like deliberately and painted black, which was all over her hands. Her old cowboy boots were once a bright red, but was now muddy and had splotches of different colored paint on it, including the black that was everywhere else. Her shirt was not hers, as it was a men's t-shirt supporting some kind of rock band Spencer didn't know. Her bright blonde hair was up in high pigtails. _

_Zyla watched Spencer analyze her; clever even at ages 7 and 9. She crossed her arms defiantly. "Whatcha starin' at?" she demanded, her fake British accent easier to hear._

"_Why do you talk like that?" Spencer asked curiously, taking the torn book from her and holding it close to him protectively. _

"_My mom watches a lot of TV. I like the way they talk. By the way, a thank you might be in order." she said, turning and trudging down the hill where the oak tree was back down to the sidewalk. They were on the outside of the downtown area, a neighborhood they both lived in. _

"_Well, thank you." Spencer mumbled, looking down at his book. Zyla grinned at him, a big toothy one, and he couldn't help a small smile on his face. "I can fix this at home. There's no need for you to mend it for me." _

_Zyla studied him for a second over her shoulder before stopping in front of his house and turning to him. _

"_See ya around, Spencer." she said before turning and walking off. Spencer stared after her, a question boggling his mind. _

"_Hey, Zyla?"_

"_What?" she yelled, turning and stopping again._

"_Why did you stop them? I thought you didn't like me." Spencer said, squinting at her. _

"_I don't like bullies," she said simply. She then grinned at him again. "Bye, boy genius."_

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><p>Spencer Reid, age 26 in the present day, smiled a little to himself as he told his colleagues about his best friend. He looked out the window in the empty train car, watching lights fly by.<p>

"After that day, we learned that we had a lot in common and we quickly became friends. She once said that it was only because no one else would be our friends," he smiled a little at that, remembering her quirked smile. "We were best friends and were really close until college. In high school, we would always meet up in the library, if Zyla didn't get in trouble that day. She liked to think that it was her job to protect people, so whenever she saw someone getting bullied or being picked on she went over there and 'straightened them out', as she would say. I never did understand why she absolutely did not want to become an FBI agent."

Prentiss and Morgan, who had been listening and watching carefully to their friend, looked on with knowing smiles and shared glances. The way Reid talked and felt about this girl; they knew that she was special.

"What happened at college?" Prentiss asked, referring to what he mentioned earlier. Spencer sighed heartily at that, looking from the window to his friends and wringing his hands.

"I graduated a year before Zyla, though I'm younger than her. We were seperated for a little while, but we still kept in touch. We wrote letters constantly. She looked after my mom for me while I was gone.

"On the night she graduated high school, I surprised her by coming. After the ceremony had ended, I took her up to our favorite place. In Las Vegas, there isn't much greenery around but Zy and I found a small field a ways out of the city that was usually lush green around that time of year. We use to try to stay out there for hours because no one would've really come looking for us, but I usually had to go home early because of my mom." Spencer explained, his eyes looking misted-over, lost in thought.

"Why would no one come look for her? What happened to her family?" Morgan asked, barely glancing when the conductor said that they were five minutes out of New York City.

"Her dad was in the Navy, he was a general. He died in battle when she was ten, and after he died her mom couldn't handle it. She kept moving from job to job, and was getting on drugs and alcohol to cope. Most of the time Zyla had to feed and take care of herself, as well as try to keep her mother out of rehab."

Spencer quieted then, looking at his hands. "That night, I kissed her and told her that I loved her. I didn't really know why I decided to spill that right then and there, but it felt right, like I had to. Except that past year she had gotten together with Andrew Trump-"

He stopped talking when the train screeched to a stop, the long ride officially over. The trio was silent as they carried their bags over their shoulders as they got a cab into the city and to the hospital. Morgan and Prentiss were mulling over all the information they had been given, trying to put together the puzzle of their friend's past. Spencer was getting exceedingly more anxious as they neared close to the hospital. His hands were fidgeting with each other and on the way through the doors, Prentiss took them.

"She's going to be fine, Reid." she told him softly, and for some reason, that statement from Prentiss helped immensely.

When he got to the door, he had to stop. His heart hammered in his chest, and his breath faltered. She looked incredibly small; Zyla always seemed so big for her personality. Her skin was pale, and her face was in a subconscious grimace. Her hair was knotted, her fingernails down to the skin. Her hands and face were scattered with scrapes and bruises. Her fingers and legs twitched, and her eyelids fluttered. A nasal tube was hooked on her ears, her breathing quiet and irregular. A heart monitor gave singular beeps, showing her erratic beats.

Spencer couldn't move from the doorway, frozen in place. His throat became dry and he blinked consistently. He completely forgot about Morgan and Prentiss' presence until there was a soft hand on his arm.

"We'll be out here, okay?" she said to him, and he nodded. He gathered up the courage to walk through the door, setting his bag down without taking his eyes off her. He sat uncertainty in the chair next to the bed, and stared down at her. Hesitantly, he took her hand tenderly, reveling in her warm, soft skin. His heart could've beat out of his chest.

He checked her face for any signs of response, but she was still. A small flame of distress flickered, but he quickly extinguished it. Spencer held her hand tightly with his, and stood up slightly to lean forward and give her a lingering kiss to her forehead. He rested his on top of hers, wishing that she could wake up and be okay.

From outside, Morgan and Prentiss watched through the door as their friend struggled, holding the hand of the girl he loves. Both of their hearts went out to them. They gave each other a tired glance.

"Poor kid never gets a break, does he?" Morgan muttered. Prentiss sighed, agreeing. It seems that Spencer Reid always picked the short stick.

However, as she studied the scene closer, she decided that maybe, just maybe, the universe gave him a chance of happiness.

The universe gave him her.

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><p><strong>AN:** I'm sorry that took longer to update! I'm trying to write as much as possible, but a lot is going on now-a-days.

I would love to know how you guys think of the story so far! I gave you some more information about Spencer and Zyla's past, but more is coming, just you wait.

Hoping to have the next chapter out a little sooner than this one. Thank you all for being so patient!


	3. Chapter 3

**Two Minds & All the Places They Have Been**

Chapter Three / Hey Stranger

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><p><em><strong>warning: brief language<strong>_

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><p><em>Fifteen-year-old Zyla Zone faced the crowd of unknown faces. Her gown was hot and thick, but she didn't care. She was graduating high school. She was finally getting the hell out of this place. Speeches were made as she sat in the crowd of seventeen and eighteen-year-olds, people who had been either ignoring her or taunting her for years, but she didn't pay attention. She just waited for the ceremony to be over so she could go home and begin to work on what was next for her. <em>

_Absentmindedly, her thoughts went to Spencer. Her lips upturned into a small smile. Zyla missed him like crazy; the boy genius was off getting his degrees and living his life. Tomorrow, right when she wakes up, she's planning to start to trip to Caltech, to surprise him. She just wished this damn ceremony would hurry up already._

_She got her wish: soon hats were thrown into the air, and hugs and joys were shared all around between friends and family. Zyla pushed her way through the busy crowd, nobody stopping to talk to her. She had pulled off her gown, revealing, not a dress, but jeans and one of her favorite t-shirts, and draped the gown over her arm. She was almost out to the parking lot when she saw him waiting for her._

_Spencer was leaning on one of the lamp poles, and though his frame was small in the light, his grin was huge. Zyla laughed in glee when she saw her best friend, and ran to meet him, dropping her gown in the street. He caught her in a hug, both of them smiling and laughing. Spencer had graduated the year before, and without him there Zyla had felt totally alone at school for a while. But here he was, the only person that had come to see her graduate._

"_Hey stranger." Spencer said, pulling back from her. _

"_Hey yourself." she said, still smiling. "Let's get out of this place; bad memories. I have something to tell you too." Spence said, taking her hand in his own and walking towards her car. Zyla nodded, and walked along, completely forgetting her gown in the street still behind her. She walked away from the school and gladly never looked back. She swung their hands back and forth like she did when they were younger until they got to the car._

"_The usual place?" she asked, starting her car and zooming out the busy parking lot as she turned up the radio. "Of course." Spencer replied, like it was the obvious answer, and turned down the radio. She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. Vegas was busy, and they fought through the traffic as they talked about everything. They had, of course, sent letters and called practically everyday when Spencer was away, but they still found something to talk about. However, Zyla was fighting with herself. Over the year, without having Spence around, many things had happened, and she didn't know how to bring it up with him. She knew that he wouldn't approve, and that he would be worried for her. She kept biting her tongue and the inside of her cheeks in worry, but trying to keep it inconspicuous. Zyla knew that if Spencer saw her doing that, he'd immediately know something was wrong. Sometimes the kid knew her too well._

_About twenty six minutes later, they were racing down a deserted two-laned highway. The sun had gone down long ago, and now that they were away from the Vegas lights, they could see some of the stars more clearly. Zyla rolled down the windows so the wind could pick up inside the cab, and blasted the music she knew that Spencer didn't much care for, but listened to anyway for her sake (and even though he was sure that by twenty, he was going to be half deaf). _

_Finally they pulled up to a dirt road, and after a few minutes on it, Zyla parked and turned off the car. A patch of luscious trees bordered a green space of long grass. In the spring, there would be little purple and blue flowers scattered among the grass. Being summer now, everything was very green; as green as it could get in Nevada, anyway. There wasn't much green around where they lived, and when the two found this place a couple years ago they both immediately fell in love with it._

_Zyla dug an old ratty blanket out from the trunk, and laid it out on the hood of the car. They both climbed onto it, their backs against the blanketed windshield, staring up at the sky. Zyla sighed contently, closing her eyes as a soft summer breeze blew over her face, blowing a few strands of dark hair across her cheeks. She then turned to her best friend, propping herself up on her elbows to meet where he was sitting up. "So," she began. "What do you need to urgently talk to me about?"_

_To her surprise, he didn't say anything. Though the corner of his lips were upturned, he seemed nervous. His hands were wringing together, and he kept pushing back his unruly hair. "Spence?" she asked quietly, eyebrows furrowed._

_And then he turned and kissed her._

_At first, it was quite awkward. Spencer had just kinda leaned in and went for it, but he didn't have any experience. And Zyla was completely thrown off by it, totally frozen on his lips. But then she closed her eyes, and slowly, it turned soft. Her warm hands were placed on his neck, bringing him closer. He still didn't have any clue what he was doing, so Zyla led the kiss, trying to show him. His hands went uncertainly on her mid-back, trying to keep in sync with her lips. Both their hearts were in their ears, and placed hands started to turn to gripping fingers. _

"_I love you." _

_It was a murmur, barely a breath between kisses, but Zyla heard it and it stopped her cold. She pulled back from the kiss and looked at Spencer in surprise, eyes wide. He was flustered then, and started to stutter. Zyla shushed him, but didn't say anything else. To her horror, she remembered what she needed to tell him, and then realized what they just did. _

"_Oh, Spence," she muttered, barely audible. "Oh God, Spence. I am so sorry."_

_Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, confused. He quickly licked his lips in anxiety. "What-What do you mean?" Zyla swallowed, closing her eyes and unintentionally digging her fingers into his flesh in the darkness of the situation. _

"_I have something to tell you." she whispered, chest twisting painfully. Spencer looked at her with wide, anxious eyes. He studied her face, grabbing her tighter. "What? Zy, just tell me." he pushed when she was silent, needing to know. _

_Zyla slowly let go of him and untangled herself, pulling back and standing up from the car, not looking at him. She ran her shaky fingers through her hair nervously. _

"_This year, when you were gone, I-well, I got… together with Andrew Trump." Zyla spoke quietly, her fingers fumbling. Spencer tensed, his back going straight. His mouth fell agape, and he was struck by her _stupidity_. Was she _insane_?_

"Trump_? Zyla, are you an_ idiot_? You know what he is, you know what his father does! I-I can't believe you'd be this stupid!" Spencer blew up. Immediately, Zyla's face grew hard and stony, and her body tensed. Her jaw set and clenched._

"_You do not get to tell me that, Spencer. You're not my _father_. You left; where was I supposed to go?" Zyla said coldly. Spencer swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. He jumped off the hood of the car, pacing and thinking, his mind working into overdrive. _

"_Zyla, you _know _his family. You know about him and what he's done! I-I just don't understand-"_

"_I love him," she said, her voice distant and blank. Zyla made it a priority to not look at him, seeming very interested in a blade of glass in front of her, but just imagining his face was enough to twist her gut over and over again. Her squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose, gradually just putting her face in her hands. The place around them was silent, the only sounds the whispering of the trees and the music of summer crickets. Spencer did not speak, and Zyla pulled herself together. She cleared her throat and looked up, and she was right: his expression killed her. She forced that down, tried forcing everything down and make her face blank. For a few moments, it seemed to work, and she pushed herself to speak._

"_I'm sorry. But you cannot dictate my life, Spencer. I'm in love with him, and I'm going to stay with him. If you can't accept that, fine. I'm sorry you can't." she started to move towards the car, balling the blanket on the window messily and throwing it in the backseat. She slammed into the driver's seat, started the car, and waited for Spencer to open the door so she could drive him home. Soon, he moved and got into the car silently. His face was stony and unreadable, and Zyla kept her eyes on the road instead._

_For about fifteen minutes, the car was completely silent. The radio was off, the windows were up, and it felt stuffy with the tension, but neither moved to break it just yet. But then Spencer spoke. "You're going to get yourself killed if you stay with him. If you won't listen to me, I'm not going to stay around and watch you die. But I can help you. Please, Zy, don't do this to yourself."_

_Anger flared in her chest, traveling through her throat and out her mouth. "I can fucking take care of myself. You're acting like I'm going through this blindly, and I'm sick of it. I'm not a fucking child. I can take care of myself."_

_He blew up right back. "Can you? Because so far, this is just showing how you can't take care of yourself because you make stupid decisions. His father leads the biggest gang in Southern Nevada, and you're screwing his son." _

_The car screeched to a stop. Zyla breathed heavily, her eyes burning and her hands clenching the wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. Her eyes were closed as she calmed down. Spencer was silent next to her, his hands wringing into fists. After four minutes of silence, Zyla opened her eyes and started to drive again, going over the speed limit. Again, the car was silent. Zyla's jaw clenched as thoughts processed through her mind and her chest was compressing painfully in anger and hurt. _

_As soon as they hit the city limits, the car stopped yet again. Zyla stared out the window, wiping angry tears off her cheeks. Spencer wanted to comfort her, but white-hot anger flooded his veins. Only a part of it was aimed towards Zyla. Spencer pulled the door handle, but didn't open the door the full way. _

"_I'm sorry." Was all he said. Both of them didn't really know what he was sorry for. _

_After he closed the door, Zyla sped off, trying hard to not look back at him, but she did. Looking through the rearview mirror, she saw him standing at the curb watching her drive away. A second later, he turned and started moving._

_Zyla drove around the neighborhood for a while, thinking. She knew that it was dangerous; a cop could pull her over and see that she was fifteen and needed an adult with her, but she didn't care. She couldn't go home. Zyla just could not deal with her mother's drunkenness right now. After another two minutes of aimless driving, she decided to go to Andrew's and see him. All she wanted was a hug and something strong to drink._

_She pulled up in front of his house, parking the car and shutting it off. Instead of going in like she somewhat wanted to, she stayed in the car, face twisting as tears pooled over her cheeks. A shaky sob worked up her throat, and she let out a deep breath, trying to control herself._

_Zyla didn't see Spencer for a while after that, but he was on her mind almost every single day. Drifting on her thoughts, as she is drifting now, further and further into…._

_Into what?_

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><p>Drifting- she was drifting. Was this Heaven? Hell? That somewhere in between? Was she dead? Zyla Zone thought the dead couldn't hear, couldn't feel or touch. But she felt like she'd been run over with a truck, twice. She could feel the warm touch on her hand, curling around her fingers like a child's. She heard the beeping of the electroencephalogram, making the room fill with the mechanical sounds of her heartbeat.<p>

Her eyelids fluttered open, and tried to focus under bright lights. They were heavy; in fact, her whole body felt heavy. Once she got a clear sight, she began to get a sense of her surroundings. She began remembering what had happened before she blacked out, trying to fit the scattered pieces of memories as she was slipping in and out of consciousness, trying to decide whether or not it was a dream or reality. She remembered the bullet being reality, that was for damn sure. She remembered the pain; the horrible sharp pain. Her skin was ripped and it was so bloody that she couldn't see where, couldn't see how bad it was. Panic began to bubble in her mouth again as she remembered laying on cold cement, wondering whether or not she was going to die-

Someone was holding her hand. Her fingers had twitched and she felt others, ones that were not her own. Zyla looked over, wearily turning her head as little as possible, and for a second she swore that she heard the machines blip.

He was here, and he was holding her hand. He was here, he was safe, he was _alive_.

_Oh Spencer Reid, you're _here.

Zyla half-laughed; a broken, hoarse sound grunting from her throat, but it made him look up. His eyes, that were wide and worried at first, softened and it made Zyla feel warm. She felt hot tears roll down her swollen cheeks, but didn't dare move to wipe them away. Her whole body throbbed. However, Spencer leaned over and wiped them for her with the pad of his thumb. His hand lingered on her cheek, and she leaned into it.

"Spencer." Zyla mumbled, her voice heavy, but he understood. He gently grabbed her hands in his.

"Hey stranger," Was all he said, but it made more tears roll down Zyla's cheeks. Spencer leaned forward and kissed her forehead softly. She squeezed her eyes closed, gripping his hands as tight as she dared. "Rest, Zy. I'll be here when you wake up."

"You too, Spence." she murmured, already falling back asleep. She felt his fingers stroke hers comfortingly.

Zyla didn't think of the risk of her staying here too long. She only thought of how absolutely wonderful sleep sounded to her, and the feeling of Spencer's hands holding hers.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** AHH! I'm so sorry I took so long to update again! My life has been kinda hectic lately, and it hasn't given me a lot of time nor energy to write.

But finals are over, and break is here, so hopefully, I'll be writing more! So this isn't a great chapter, but it's important. We'll get to see more of what exactly Zyla is up to in the next chapter. I already have it written, so I should be uploading it around tomorrow.

Hope you guys had a good holiday. Leave reviews please, and have a happy new year!


	4. Chapter 4

**Two Minds & All the Places They Have Been**

Chapter Four / Running

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><p>Derek Morgan was, to say the least, exhausted.<p>

Never mind working on a case for the past twenty-four hours, but he's been in this hospital chair for at least another seven or so. He had been waking up and falling back asleep again. Prentiss, however, had been peacefully asleep on the couch in the waiting room for a few hours. Derek looked at her with furious envy, his eyes drooping and focus blurring for a minute.

When he saw Spencer walk it, he stood straight up. The kid looked completely worn out as well; his hair was messier than ever, his eyelids drooped and darkened, his posture was slouched. But he looked somewhat positive, so Derek focused on that.

"She woke up, but only for a few minutes. She's going to be fine, I think. You and Prentiss can go get a hotel room and get some sleep. I'm going to stay here for a little while longer," Spencer told him, hands in his pockets. He had glanced at Emily with a small amused smile on his face as a snore came from the couch.

While a quiet, dark bed to sleep for hours in sounded completely amazing, Derek didn't move. Instead, he studied Spencer, and made his voice firm. "You need to sleep too, pretty boy. You've been up as much as the rest of us. You'll be no good to her completely exhausted."

After a quiet moment of speculation and a quick glance down the hall where Zyla rested, Spencer nodded. With the both of them there, they managed to get Emily up, and pleasantly, she was only a little cranky. When they stepped outside, it surprised them to know it was already dawn. The sun started to rise in the East, and as the city began to wake, the team began to sleep, pretty much falling unconscious the moment they stepped into their rooms.

Emily didn't even make it to the bed.

* * *

><p>When Emily woke up several hours later, the first thing she became aware of was that she was not, in fact, on the bed. She had pulled the blankets, pillows, and sheets off the bed and slept on the floor, which she didn't quite understand because if the blankets and stuff was already on there, why had she pulled them to the floor? What was so appealing about the floor compared to the bed?<p>

The second thing she realized was the ringing of her phone across the room on top of the desk. Groaning, she pulled herself over to the desk, not bothering to get off the floor. Sleep flooded her eyelids, making it hard to see, and she answered it with as much professionalism as she could muster.

"Prentiss." she murmured, her head resting against the desk leg. "Emily?" Hotch's somewhat amused voice came from the other end. "Did I wake you?"

Just as she started to yawn, she said, "Not at all, sir." Hotch chuckled. "I was just calling to check in," he hesitated slightly before continuing. "How's Reid doing?"

Rubbing her eyes and starting to wake up, Emily sat up, trying to find a clock to see what time it was. The alarm clock next to the table said it was a little past eleven in the morning. "Fine, I think," she replied. "Morgan and I were in the waiting room most of the time, and he was in the room with Zyla. He was exhausted, but I'm sure he's there now. Morgan convinced him to get a few hours of sleep."

"Good," Hotch said. "How are her conditions?"

"Reid said that she woke up a few minutes last night, and the doctors said that she should make a fast recovery," Emily paused, smiling a little when thinking of Spencer gently holding her hand and kissing her forehead. He really loved her, and it was nice to see. That kid never has had the best luck in the world. "That's good. So you think you guys will be back soon?" Hotch said. Emily nodded, and said, "Yeah, probably. I assume that Reid is going to stay here with her a little longer. She has no other family."

"Okay. Get a good night's sleep, all of you, and call me with any updates." Hotch then hung up, and right after there were continuous knocks on the door. Groaning again, she drug herself to her feet and shuffled to the door, looking through the peephole. Morgan stood, and he knocked again. Emily scowled, and opened the door. Derek still looked exhausted, but he had a cup of coffee in his right hand, and he looked amused at Emily's disheveled appearance.

"Well good morning gorgeous," he said with a smile, leaning against the doorframe. Emily scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Reid's already at the hospital. When you get ready and, uh… do something with that," he gestured with his finger at her hair. "We can go."

"Okay, three things: one, Hotch called to check in. Two, I will be ready in a minute. And three, the most important, is that you are an ass Derek Morgan." She then closed the door on his grinning face, ignoring his laughter.

* * *

><p>Zyla was awake again in the afternoon, and when she woke she saw Spencer once again sitting in the chair next to her. She frowned, groggy.<p>

"Did you get _any_ sleep?" she asked, her voice scratchy and hoarse. Spencer looked up from his notepad, where he was doodling absentmindedly, and smiled at her. "Yes. It's been almost seven hours since you woke up last. They should be bringing in some food any minute, I ordered some a little while ago for you whenever you woke up." He covered her hand with his, his thumb stroking her hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got ran over with a truck, twice. I am starving though," she bit her lip, and turned her hand over to tie their fingers together. "I missed you," she murmured. He smiled again, glancing down in an almost bashful way before looking back up at her. "I missed you too Zy."

Zyla's eyes became a little wet, but she quickly blinked any wetness away, and was thankfully distracted by the door of her hospital room opening, two people come through.

"Reid, are you-" the dark haired woman stopped, noticing that Zyla was awake. The man stood in the doorway, watching her as well. Spencer stood, letting go of Zyla's hand in the process. "Uh, Morgan, Prentiss, this is Zyla. Zy, this is Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss. They work with me."

Emily, the woman, smiled at her, walking over to her her shake. Zyla took it but kept a loose grip. Her muscles felt tired. "I'm Emily. Reid's told us a lot about you."

Zyla felt a stab of fear go through her, but quickly demolished it. She smiled back at Emily, and then at Derek, who had come into the room fully, standing near Spencer with his hands in his pockets. "Right." was all she could think to say to Emily's comment.

"Spence, we, uh, just wanted to know if you had eaten yet. Morgan and I were going to go down to the cafeteria. Also, Hotch called to check in." Emily said. Spencer nodded, and opened his mouth to speak before the door opened again and a nurse with a plate of food came in, followed by a doctor holding a clipboard. Spencer stayed, waiting to hear from the doctor.

"Good morning, Miss Moriarty. Or should I say afternoon," Doctor Barrows chuckled. Zyla just smiled at him. He let out a breath of air as he started to go through her clipboard, and the nurse was readying her food. "So yesterday, you came in late at night with a tear on the lining of your stomach from a .38 caliber. It was a graze, the bullet didn't go in you. Says that you were found on an abandoned lot, and that you were there for about fifteen minutes before the ambulance arrived, and as soon as you arrived at the hospital you were taking into the OR to repair the lining of your stomach. The procedure was obviously successful, but it was touch-and-go for a while. You lost a lot of blood, almost two liters," the doctor 'tut tut tut'ed under his breath before continuing, looking up at her from the clipboard.

"The police has all of your belongings as evidence, and your car was impounded. I will call them to let them know that you're awake. They have some questions to ask you, if that's alright." Barrows concluded, looking at her for an answer. Zyla gave him a pressed smile. "Yes, of course." she answered. The doctor grinned. "Well alrighty then. Enjoy your lunch, and call a nurse if you need anything or are in any pain. Darren will give you your medicine, and check to make sure your machines are working." The nurse gave her a nod and a smile when he was mentioned, and began doing just that after the doctor left.

Emily and Derek went to the cafeteria to get food for them, while Zyla picked at her meal, her mind whirring. She couldn't talk to the police. She couldn't stay here. And she couldn't tell Spencer. Her heart wrenched. She had just gotten him back, and she was running away. Again.

* * *

><p>A couple days had passed since Zyla had been brought into the hospital. Emily and Derek, who turned out to be pretty cool, had left the day before, but Spencer was still here. Zyla ended up having to talk to the police, but she chose her words very delicately and left out most of the story without anyone noticing.<p>

She still felt like crap, but she was healing. She was able to walk now on her own, but just for a little bit and she was very slow. She still took lots of pain medications, which she'd have to steal before she left. Her heart dropped every time she thought about it, but she knew she had to go. It was the only thing to do that would keep Spencer safe.

Zyla had everything planned out, and was hoping with everything she had that her plan would go smoothly. After Spencer left to go sleep at the hotel, and after her check-in with her doctors, she would go through the nurses' station to get the medication she needed, and then leave to go to the evidence boxes at the police station to get the rest of her stuff. Then she'd hotwire a car, and be on her way.

Okay, yes, it sounded quite unrealistic, especially in her condition. But she's done this kind of thing enough to know what to do when. And this time, she couldn't worry about how quick she needs to be; she needs to be slow and steady. It wins the race, after all.

A few hours later, Spencer was gone and the doctors had checked in. She waited an extra twenty minutes just to be safe. She was so glad she asked for extra medications tonight (according to the doctors, her head and stomach were hurting way more than usual), because she will be doing a lot of moving around.

Zyla moved quietly out of her room, a couple dollars in her hand like she was getting a drink from the vending machine. Down the hall, she sneaked into one of the supply closets, and dressed in blue scrubs, putting her hair up in a ponytail and putting a mask over her face. She threw the hospital gown away, and went back outside.

Another nurse was coming down the hall, and Zyla bumped into her, inconspicuously grabbing the badge that was hooked onto the bottom of her shirt. "Sorry," she called to her as she rushed down the hall, slowing when she turned the corner, and wincing at the searing pain in her stomach. She took a deep breath through her nose, trying to squash down the pain. From her scouting for it earlier that day, she found the nurses' center down the hall and to the left. She scanned the stolen badge for the medicine cabinets and got all the medicines she needed, stuffing them into the blue bag that she had found and emptied out. Quickly, she closed the cabinets and locked them, placing the badge on the table so when the nurse came looking for it, she would hopefully think she forget it there.

She got the medicine, but made a quick detour into the nurses' changing rooms to grab some clothes and stuff them into the bag as well, and then she decided to take the cash out of their wallets too. _They're going to be doctors, they won't need it._ She then raced out the hospital into the parking lot, and caught a bus.

The bus was smelly and mostly empty, and she told the bus driver where to go, dropping some change into the slot before sitting down, feeling exhausted. Her muscles felt like jelly, and her stomach felt like it was being split open, again. She ripped off the mask from her face and shoved it into the bag. Sighing, she leaned down into her chair, staring out the window. She almost fell asleep before the bus driver announced that it was her stop. Zyla thanked him, and started walking down the street where the police station was.

Walking in was easy; it was a busy place, even at this time of night. She hoped she wouldn't run into the cops that had questioned her the day before; that would throw everything off. She wandered into the back where the evidence boxes were, and saw that there was one man on duty. _25 or 26 years old. Not married, might have a girlfriend. Nope, never mind, might have a boyfriend, by the looks of his hair. Damn, can't charm him then. New tactic. _Even while she went through this through her head, Zyla smiled at the cop on duty, and he straightened when he saw her.

"Can I help you miss?" he asked, looping his thumbs through the belt loops on his pants. She gave him a warm smile. "Yes, I'm here to pick up some items from a Marilyn Moriarty. Doctor Barrows called in earlier to request that our patient receives them, it would help her mental state recover. She's been through a trauma." her voice was professional, but it had some sympathy in it as she said the last sentence.

The officer, Lenance, looked confused, as she suspected. "Uh, I don't believe we ever got a call from a Doctor Barrows. Let me-" Zyla let out a sharp breath like she was extremely annoyed, and closed her eyes for a couple seconds before opening them. "This is the _third _time this has happened with this police force. It's just plain _ridiculous_, and unprofessional," her tone was harsh, and she pointed a finger at him. "I will complain all of you to the Chief, and I will make sure that you are _prohibited_ from doing-"

Lenance looked panicked, and some color was lost in his face. "Excuse me, miss, I am _extremely_ sorry for this. We will make sure that we do better next time, I promise you myself. We have everything we need on this case anyway, and the items belong to her. Let me go get the box for you, and you can be on your way." Zyla huffed, but nodded, and the officer scurried to find it. After he left, she couldn't help but smile just a little bit. Some people were so easy to manipulate.

Within a few minutes, Lenance came back with the box, and Zyla went through it, making sure everything was there. She left all the weapons and whatnot in there; that would look suspicious. She put her things in her bag, thanked the officer, and headed out of the station, her heart pounding.

She walked down the street for a little while before finding a nice car she could hijack. She replaced the plates, and, using an old hanger she dug out from the dumpster beside the building the parking lot belonged to, she unlocked the driver's door and climbed in. She hot-wired the car to start, and it came to life. Zyla grinned before pulling out and speeding away, getting a good distance away from the hospital and the station.

Zyla drove for a while before stopping at a gas station to fill up her car. She went inside to change her clothes, throwing the scrubs away, and buy a disposable cell phone and some food, avoiding the cameras as much as she could. Zyla drove from the gas pump to the parking lot and parked, going through the things that she had gotten before leaving. She had meds to last her a couple weeks, another change of clothes, a couple hundred dollars left, and then the things she got from her evidence box. Her maps, her notebooks, her fake IDs and credit cards, and her pictures.

She picked up a crinkled picture that had fell out the back of her notebook, and gave a small smile. It was her and Spencer as teenagers, and they had their arms around each other, and they were grinning from ear to ear. She didn't really remember that day; what they did, who took the picture, things like that, but it was one of her favorite photos. Spencer wasn't looking at the camera like Zyla was: he was looking at her, grinning. She never knew how much he loved her until much later in their lives.

She still doesn't really know.

Sighing, Zyla shoved things back into her bag, and took a few medicine tablets, swallowing them dry. She lifted up her shirt and saw her bandages stained red with blood. Some of her stitches must have broken, and the wound must have opened again. Biting her lip, her eyes squeezed shut in pain, she let her shirt drop. She spread her maps on the passenger seat, setting her bag on the ground in front of it. Her cell phone rested on the dash, and she took a couple gulps of her coffee from the gas station before turning on her car, turning up the radio, and starting a long drive, trying hard to not look back.

* * *

><p>It was a quiet day for the BAU team; as quiet as it could get, at least. JJ was endlessly going through different cases, wondering which one they would set off to next. The rest of the team was finishing up paperwork. The sky that day was gray, and it was midday when Spencer Reid stormed in with a pale face and red eyes.<p>

Derek and Emily both jumped up when they saw him, but he completely ignored them as he strode into Hotch's office. Hotch looked up in surprise when he saw him. "Reid, I didn't know you were coming back today-"

"I need your help." Spencer said, his voice cracking just the slightest from worry. Hotch stood, eyebrows furrowed with concern. "What's the matter? What's happened?"

"It's Zyla. She's missing, she ran. Help me find her."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Again, I have the next chapter already written, so it should be up in a day or so.

Feedback is good, and you people are wonderful :) Have a good day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Two Minds & All the Places They Have Been**

Chapter Five / Goodbye, Hello

* * *

><p><em><strong>warning: mentions of violence and physical, drug, and alcohol abuse<strong>_

* * *

><p>Spencer Reid was beyond the point of tired, or even exhausted. He was so sleep deprived and sore and exasperated that there had to be a new word for it. But instead of taking another day off work and sleeping for twelve hours like he should and subconsciously wants to, he was bent over the table in the conference room at the BAU, practically chugging down cups of coffee, and searching for the girl he loved who ran away again.<p>

The rest of the room, who were less tired than Spencer was, worked around him. They were doing this for him on their own time, and he was forever grateful for it. The team delved further and further into Zyla's past, trying to see where she would go while Garcia kept her eyes and ears open for her across the country.

Documents of Zyla were on the big screen, and Spencer tried to avoid it as much as possible as there was a big picture of a smiling teenage Zyla there beside them. JJ, Derek, and Emily went through all the documented sightings and information on her from the past few years, which was very little.

"She must have some great skills on a keyboard, or a close friend that is that helped her clear all this info from when her mom died four years ago to today." Garcia said in a rush as she swished in in bright orange today. "Probably someone else. Zyla's terrible with modern technology." Spencer muttered without looking up from his papers. Without noticing, his teammates exchanged glances.

Spencer's shrill phone rang out, and he was quick to answer it. "Doctor Spencer Reid." he answered, rubbing his face while fighting back a yawn.

"It's me."

Though it was only two words and they were quiet, he'd recognize that lovely voice anywhere. "Zyla? Where are you?" Spencer said, getting quickly into action after freezing from shock. Garcia, with wide eyes, began to track the phone, and Spencer put it on speaker.

"I can't tell you. Don't bother trying to track this phone either; I'm throwing it away and driving in the opposite direction after I hang up." Zyla said. Garcia looked up in surprise, but Spencer barely looked her way. "Zy, why did you run? What's going on?" he demanded. "It's too dangerous to stick around, Spence. I have to keep you safe." she answered, her voice heavy. "From who?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "From the people who are after me. People who want to… hurt me. And staying with you would give them the opportunity to use you to hurt me, and I won't let that happen as long as I am breathing." Spencer's heart froze, and he swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to focus.

"Who's after you, Zyla? And why? What have you done?" he asked exasperatedly. Zyla let out a soft breath, sounding a little dryly amused. "I've done a lot to piss them off, let's just say that. And as far as who's after me, I will only say this: my high school graduation night. You were right, and I'm sorry."

Once again, Spencer's whole body went numb with shock. It was then followed by despair. "Zyla…." It was almost a plead. "Spencer… this could easily be the last time I talk to you. And I want to say that I am so sorry. I shouldn't have gotten myself into this mess, but it's too late now. I have to finish it or we're both in danger." her voice broke midway, and by her breathing, it sounded like she was trying to keep herself together.

Spencer ran his hands through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut again. He took a long pause before placing his hands on the table, leaning over, to say, "I love you. More than you possibly know."

"I love you too, Spencer. I will keep you safe, I promise." her voice cracked, but there was determination in her last few words. Spencer began to beg. "No, please, just… come home to me." His voice began to break too, and he held himself together, refusing to fall apart as he was slowly slipping from the girl he was in love with and his silent teammates around him.

"I might not make it." Those words broke him all over again, and he felt a couple tears slip down his face and he bitterly wiped them away quickly. "Please, just… try. For me, Zy. Try to come home. I don't want to lose you again." he pleaded.

Zyla's voice turned soft. "I was always yours, Spence. Please know that. Know that I have been in love with you since I was nine years old," she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing with a stern tone. "Spencer, you have to promise me something."

"Zyla-" he began. "Please, just promise me something, okay?" she intervened. She was trying hard to sound steady, but her voice was a bit wobbly. "Promise me that if I die, you carry on. Don't live your life in guilt or mourning and just waste away. I know what it's like to do that, and to see it happen, and I need to know that you won't do the same. You'll go to your job and save people and you'll live your life with a girl and maybe a couple of kids." she tried to make it light, and she smiled a little before turning serious again, pleading. "Just promise me that one thing, Spencer. Please."

Spencer wanted to argue, to say that he could never just move on from her and love someone else and be with them. He could never convince himself that her death wouldn't be his fault because he should've tried harder to keep her safe before any of this had happened. But instead, he swallowed all that down. "Okay. I promise."

Her slight sigh of relief was imminent. She swallowed a lump in her throat on the other end before continuing. "I need you to know that it's not your fault, any of this. This is on me. Protecting you like this is my decision, and I'd do it again. I love you. I'm sorry."

"Zyla-" his voice was panicked, because he knew what she was about to do. "Don't look for me. Live your life. I love you so much."

The line went dead, the room was silent, and Spencer Reid broke all over again.

* * *

><p>Four months after the phone call, the team was working on a case in Nevada, near Lake Tahoe. There were three deaths in the past few weeks near that area, and the first two looked like professional hits, almost like assassinations. The third was a sloppy kill, and a further investigation of the crime scene revealed that there was a second person that broke in and tried to stop the unsub. From what the team could tell, the unsub took the person, killed the victim, and ran.<p>

Now all the trails lead to an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the comfort zone, belonging to a Drew Harrison, who they believed to be the unsub. Knowing that there was a strong possibility of a hostage inside, the team and the police force drove up and stayed quiet, not moving in yet.

Spencer eyed the building, trying to see if there was any movement or light inside, but it was almost the middle of the night, and he couldn't see too well. A few SWAT team members, along with JJ and Morgan, went around the perimeter of the building trying to find a safe way in where they wouldn't draw too much attention to themselves while they went inside.

A few minutes later, after the SWAT members and JJ and Morgan came back with the information of a back door open, there was gunshots inside. The team broke into action, guns out, as they ran inside the building, following the signs of a struggle.

"FBI! Don't move!" Hotch called out as the team moved forward.

Morgan had found them first. A man with a bloody nose and bruises on his face was cradling his bleeding left arm, where he was shot, and was aiming the gun in his right hand at the girl. The girl was hunched over a little, putting her weight on one foot, seemingly have injured the other. Her shirt was torn and her shoulder was bleeding from a knife wound, and the weapon lay bloody on the ground a few feet away from her. She too was bruised around her face, neck, and arms, and had a gun in her hands, aiming it at the man. Neither of them took their gazes away from each other.

But that only caught Morgan's attention for a minute. It was taken again by the fact that he knew this trembling, furious girl.

It was Zyla.

Morgan turned to yell for Hotch, to get Spencer out of there as he was too emotionally involved in this case, but Hotch, Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, and Spencer came rushing in, and it was too late. A few police officers drained in after them, and surrounded the room, their guns out and on the two.

Spencer had completely frozen, mouth agape, his grip on his revolver loosening. "Zyla?" he exclaimed, and Hotch glanced back at him with a hardened expression. "Reid, get out of here." he demanded, his voice hard.

"Doctor Reid, you take one step towards that door, and I shoot Zyla in the head." the man called out, a bloody grin spreading on his face. He didn't glance Spencer's way, but he knew that his attention was on him. Spencer stayed put, and the rest of the team subconsciously gripped their guns tighter. "Spencer, go. Get out of here _now_." Zyla retaliated, her voice like ice.

"Oh, look at her, acting all tough and protective," the man drawled. Then he finally looked Spencer's way, and his face lost all color as he recognized the man. The unsub grinned wider. "Remember me, Spence?"

Spencer clenched his jaw, his eyes never leaving him. "Andrew Trump. A murderer. And I'm here to arrest you."

Andrew laughed. "Oh, I bet you'd love that, boy-genius. But are you sure you don't want to shoot me? You almost killed me last time we met, and all because little Princess over here couldn't keep her mouth shut." Anger flared through Spencer, but Zyla reacted first. She stepped forward, and the police tensed, their guns pointing straight towards her. "No. He won't kill you. I will," Zyla sneered. "Prison would not be a just punishment for what you did, and I will sacrifice my soul to see yours in Hell."

"Zyla." Spencer warned her, gripping his gun, nervous, but Andrew just laughed again, coldly. "You can put on this act, baby, but I know what will happen here. You won't kill me, I'll go to jail, and you'll be reunited with your boy toy," he smirked. "Except I'll get out, one way or another. And my first priority will be to pay a visit to you two, and make sure that you watch as I slit his throat and know that it's all your fault. Then I'll have my fun with you, and make your death a slow one," Andrew grinned, spitting blood out of his mouth and onto the floor. "And you can try to run, try to hide, lock the two of you up in protective services, but I will always find you, baby."

With that, Andrew dropped his gun down. Police officers rushed in to him, taking the gun and putting him in handcuffs as they read his rights. "You and me forever, baby! You're mine!" he yelled at her as they dragged him out of the building.

Zyla didn't lower her gun until his smirking, bloody face out of her sight, and his voice had stopped. Then she slowly lowered her gun, only to have it taken away by Spencer. Everything around her felt slow and blurry, and her whole body felt numb. She heard Spencer talking to her, but she couldn't hear his words. She only looked where Andrew was standing, at the drops of his blood against the cement from the wound in his arm.

"Zy, look at me. We need to get you some medical attention, okay? Can you hear me? Zyla?" Spencer begged her, holding her face in his hands, but she wouldn't respond, wouldn't even look at him. Morgan, JJ, and Prentiss came up beside him, and Morgan patted her down for any other weapons on her person and found none.

"She's in shock, Reid," Prentiss said, a hand on his shoulder to press him back. "Let her breathe a little, the paramedics are on their way." After a moment, Zyla looked at her, and swallowed a dry lump in her throat. "I'm fine." she said, her voice sounding small. She then looked over at Spencer, who was looking at her in almost panic. "I'm fine," she repeated to him.

Before he could respond, two paramedics came in and rushed over to her, while a third was behind them with a stretcher, and the four agents backed away to let them work. They helped Zyla onto the stretcher, and began looking over her, their main concern being the cut at her shoulder. They rolled her out to the ambulance, where they set her in and took her to the hospital to be stitched up.

The agents began to disperse the warehouse room, and Hotch pulled Reid aside, his expression tense. "How do you know Andrew Trump?" he asked him. Spencer exhaled, swallowing. "There was this gang in Las Vegas that was known for the drugs they trafficked and the violence they spread, and none of the cops were able to catch them. All they knew was that the leader of the gang was a guy named Frank Trump. His son, Andrew, went to school with us, and I could tell that he was as bad as his father," Spencer paused before continuing, remembering everything that happened very clearly. "I graduated high school a year before Zyla did, and went to CalTech. On her graduation night, I surprised her by coming and I told her that I was in love with her. She told me that she had gotten together with Andrew Trump. It ended in a big fight, and we didn't see each other for a while after that."

"She was together with Trump?" Hotch asked, and Spencer noticed his tone was a touch softer. Spencer nodded, before continuing. "The next time I saw her it was at her mother's funeral after she had overdosed, nine years later. She was 24, and I was 22 and was starting to get into the FBI. She was still with Trump, but I recognized the signs of… of abuse on her. Trump was very protective over her, and she looked more uncomfortable than sad at the funeral."

"Did she have a good relationship with her mother?" Hotch questioned. Spencer shook his head. "Not after her dad died when she was ten. Her mother became an alcoholic and a drug user, and pretty much ignored Zyla as she grew up. She was in and out of rehabs while she was in school," he explained. "After the funeral, I got in contact with Zyla and she snuck out to meet me that night, and we caught up over dinner and that's when I knew for certain what Trump had been doing to her for almost a decade."

Spencer paused again, taking a deep breath. Reliving these certain memories were painful, and he wondered if Zyla was okay and when he could see her. "I confronted her about it in the car, and she didn't even argue with me, which, if you knew her, was expected. But she just started crying, and she broke down. She had pulled over, and I tried comforting her, but… I was so angry that Andrew Trump could do that to her. She was completely broken, and he did that." Spencer took another deep breath. "Only a couple minutes after that, another car drove up behind us. Andrew knew Zyla snuck out, and he followed us. He was furious Zyla ran, and that I was with her, and he had been drinking. Zyla and I both got out of the car, and he… attacked me. Threw me to the ground and started beating me, and Zyla was yelling for him to stop and he wouldn't. But I was so angry, more angry than I have ever been, and I threw him off me and started just hitting him, over and over again," Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair.

"It's okay," Hotch comforted quietly. "Just tell me what happened after that."

Spencer nodded again, swallowing. "Zyla was crying and had pulled me off him, but Trump just jumped up from the ground and slapped her, and then attacked at me again. I couldn't see, he was on top of me, hitting me, and I tried to fight back, but Zyla had thrown herself onto him, knocking Trump off of me. He threw her off, and she punched him, and he staggered into the road, and was hit by a car driving by. They called an ambulance, and they all took us to the hospital," Spencer ran his hand through his hair again.

"Trump was pretty beat up, and they charged him with assault after getting Zyla and I's statements. I had a broken nose, and a lot of bruises, and Zyla stayed with me at the hospital. After that night, she disappeared, and I never heard from her again until she was shot in New York." Spencer concluded, of course, leaving out his and Zyla's conversation at the hospital, and the short time they spent afterwards. It was too private and intimate to share with his boss.

Hotch nodded, and then gave Spencer a squeeze on his shoulder. Spencer gave him a grateful quick smile. "Go on to the hospital, and take the time you need." he said, before walking off. Spencer nodded, and then with hands in his pockets, he went to catch a ride to the hospital.

* * *

><p>Morgan drove him over, and the car ride was silent. When Morgan dropped him off, however, he told him a teasing, "Go get her," with a small smile. Spencer rolled his eyes, but appreciated that he was trying to make the situation lighter. Spencer went in the hospital, and Morgan drove off.<p>

However, when he got inside and asked for Zyla, he got a surprise. "She checked out, about five or ten minutes ago." the nurse at the front desk said. Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. "Checked out?" he exclaimed. "Yeah, they stitched her up a little while ago, and she was out of here quick." she said.

Spencer walked away from the desk, feeling heartbroken. _Again_? She ran _again_? What did she have to run for this time?

Through his silent ramblings, his phone beeped with a text. He opened it, his whole body feeling heavy, and noted it was from an unknown number. But what it said lifted his spirits.

_Sorry, I hate hospitals. At your place. Come alone, we need to talk. Love, Z._

With the smallest smile on his face, he closed his phone and called for a taxi.

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><p><strong>AN**: BOOM. Most of the story behind Andrew Trump: Spencer's view. We'll get more info on the scumbag from Zyla's view later.

Also, we lost Zyla, and then we found Zyla! Yay!

But what kind of author would I be if it was that easy or nice ;)

Please leave a review- they're so nice and they make my day. Thanks all!


	6. Chapter 6

**Two Minds & All the Places They Have Been**

Chapter Six / Harsh Truths

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><p><em><strong>warning: mildbrief NSFW, discusses physical, verbal, and emotional abuse, discusses alcoholism and drug use/trafficking, brief language**_

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><p>four years earlier<p>

_Spencer was laying on the doctor's check-up table, his body hurting but his spirits high and insides warm. Zyla was here, safe, with him, and she wasn't going to be with Trump anymore. She sat next to him, holding his hand in both of hers, stroking his skin softly with the pad of her thumb. The room was silent, the door shut. The only noises were their breathing; in sync with each other._

_He was studying her features, staring at her forming bruises from the night and gazing at older wounds he saw peeking from her clothes and hair. She had been deep in thought; he could tell by the occasional quirking of her lips and eyebrows, her eyesight focused on nothing. He finally broke the silence. "It's not your fault," he whispered, his voice weak. Zyla met his eyes from where she was staring at nothing next to him. Her eyebrows raised in question, and she hummed in question. She was exhausted. It had been such a long night. Hell, scratch that, it'd been a long few years. It had been too long._

"_It's not your fault. Any of it. What he did to you, what happened tonight… it's not your fault." he murmured. She gazed at him, not knowing what to say. She had been with Andrew for years, and he had treated her like absolute worthless garbage for so long that maybe after a while she started believing it. But she nodded solemnly in response, looking down and focusing her eyes on their enclosed hands. He squeezed hers, and she squeezed back. _

_After another twenty minutes or so in silence, the doctor came in and cleared Spencer to go home. Zyla helped him up, picked up his painkillers that were prescribed to him, and she got a cab outside. The cab took them, to Spencer's surprise, to Zyla's old house, the one she lived in with her mother. As the two walked up the walkway to the front door, Spencer noticed the "For Sale" sign just barely swinging from the wind. Zyla moved the welcome mat on the front porch for the spare key, and unlocked the dark house. The house was mostly empty, but the furniture and a few stray knickknacks were still in place. The rest of the house was in packed cardboard boxes. _

_The rooms felt empty and cold with it looking bare and dark. However, Spencer saw warmth flood in slowly when Zyla turned on the lights and stood in the middle of them and the whole world seemed to curve around to her. She was breathtaking. _

"_Why did we come here?" Spencer asked quietly after a few moments of silence. Zyla didn't answer at first; she was trying to find some blankets and pillows for them to sleep on the couch in the boxes. Sighing, she finally answered. "Because… we don't really have anywhere else to go, do we?" She paused from her search, sighing again. "You don't live in Vegas anymore and your mom's in the hospital, and… I didn't want to go back to Andrew house."_

_Her voice was soft, almost childlike, when she finished, and Spencer didn't speak. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't make any of this better; he couldn't erase the last nine years of her life with Andrew. He couldn't heal her wounds. After a moment, she looked at him with a small smile, almost cynical looking. "So we're breaking and entering instead." she said, her voice noticeably trying to be light._

_She continued her search without another word after that. Spencer decided to rest on the worn couch; his body was almost aching from exhaustion. He was almost asleep when she dropped a couple pillows and a blanket next to him, then walked over to turn off the dim lamp. When the house fell back into darkness, he heard her scuffle back over to the couch and sit beside him. She grabbed the blanket and threw it up to unfold it, then let it fall over the two. She settled in next to him, both squirming until they were in a comfortable place, lying side by side._

_The house fell quiet again, the darkness of the night becoming more settled in their eyes. Each listened to the other's breathing, both knowing that they were not going to fall asleep for a while. _

_It had been over twenty minutes since they entered the house, and while Spencer felt totally drained, he couldn't sleep. He wondered how Zyla was feeling; she hadn't fallen asleep yet either, but she was being very quiet. A few minutes later, she broke the silence._

"_I know it's not." Her voice was quiet and hollow-sounding. For not the first time, and yet each time it surprises him, Spencer was not reminded of the aggressive teenager he last left her as, but as a scared and damaged adult who had been through hell for almost a decade. He listened carefully to her as she began to speak again._

"_Most days, I know it's not my fault, what he said and did to me. Most days, I knew that he was angry and drunk and high, and he was taking it all out on me, because I was there and I was an easy target. But…" her sentence trailed for a moment, her voice fading a bit. "Some days, I believed him. I believed him when he told me I was worthless and disposable."_

_She stopped speaking, not wanting to talk about it any more. She didn't want to think about it; she wanted to erase it from her mind. She rubbed her eyes with her fingers, sighing. Spencer turned his head to look at her. Her fingers stayed on her closed eyelids for several moments until blinking open rapidly, her eyes stinging from unfallen tears. Spencer saw this, and immediately tried to bring her closer to her, and she happily obliged, burying her head into his chest._

_Tears leaked down her cheeks slowly, a hard lump starting to grow in her throat. She sniffed, letting out a shaky breath. She felt small, like a child, but she felt so safe and warm with Spencer._

_And that's what she slowly realized all over again: Spencer was safe. Spencer was caring. Spencer held her and listened to her and tried to make her smile. He was loving and kind._

_Spencer was home._

_He had told her, all those years ago, that he loved her. He was in love with her, and he had been for a long time. And she never said it back, did she? Not that she recalled; all she remembered was breaking both their hearts, and going their separate ways. He never deserved that, he never deserved any of this. And yet, here he was, holding her like nothing ever happened._

_She never told him she loved him, but my god, she did. She loved him more than the stars loved the night. Spencer Reid was everything to her; she loved him, she was in love with him. He was her best friend, her family. She would do anything for him; anything to keep him safe._

_But she needed to know this: did he still love her like he did before? Like he had said he did? He had shown something like it, yes, but Zyla had her cautious doubts. After years of being manipulated and emotionally abused, she didn't remember what being cared and loved for was like._

"_Spencer," she whispered. She had to know. "Do- do you still… love me? You told me that night that you did, but… it was a long time ago. And I've been through and done so much shit. I-I'm not the same person as I was." She trailed off from there, the room becoming silent again. Her heart beat in anxiety, hoping with every fiber of her being that he would still accept her._

_Spencer took her arms and slowly removed her from his chest, making a space between them. With fearful eyes, Zyla studied him cautiously, her heart filling with dread. She swallowed at the lump in her throat again, ready to look down or turn away when he spoke._

"_I have never stopped loving you, and I never will, Zyla Zone." His words were soft and desperate for her to listen, to actually listen to his words. Her eyes glistened over, lips slightly parted in awe as her sight tried to completely be full of him. Spencer, Spencer her best friend, Spencer the one she loved, Spencer Spencer Spencer._

_Both clashed together abruptly, warm lips meeting and meeting again, each time giving a beautiful hello, goodbye. Arms surrounded each other in a tight embrace, arousement sparking between the two. Zyla's fingers ran through the ends of Spencer's hair, causing small frenzied exhales from him, which made the blonde smile in gratification. _

_Their nerves were electrified, the atmosphere was buzzing. Zyla's hands were gentle, but her kisses were passionate and urging. Spencer was overwhelmed with her aphrodisiac presence, the way her gasps came each time she stopped kissing him, the feel of her hands against his electrified skin. But he was confused internally on the effects of her in his body, and he was quite frankly a little terrified; he hadn't done anything like this before. What if he messed up? What if he was terrible, and she hated him forever? What if he accidently bit her tongue?_

_Spencer's scientific mind raced through probabilities and statistics, but he couldn't think properly. He couldn't juggle sexual thoughts and scientific thoughts at the same time, okay? He wasn't Superman. _

_Impulsive with panic, he took a hold of the sides of her arms quickly, his wide eyes swishing every which way. Zyla, abruptly stopped and out of breath, analyzed him in confusion. "Spence, what's wrong? Do-Do you not want to?" she asked, voice sounding a little fearful. Spencer was quick to reply. "No, no, of course I do. I-I just... " he sighed, his hands grazing her arms. "I've never done this before, okay? I-I don't know what to do." _

_His face was flushed red. He avoided all eye contact, and was sharply reminded of the horrible incident with the blindfold in high school. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them, blinking rapidly. Zyla, practically on top of him, studied him quietly until she gently grabbed his face in her hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks._

"_I can show you," she murmured, her voice low and sensual. All the air left him as his body went rigid, heart thumping. Swallowing, he couldn't reply, didn't even dare to, as she came closer to him, lying a kiss upon his lips again. Her kisses trailed from his face to his neck to his chest, her love spreading to him everywhere she could find and Spencer had never found a better definition of bliss than right then and there._

_It was awkward at certain points, yes. Neither were masters, and Zyla laughed at these times, though Spencer, as always, turned beet red. Spencer didn't mind, though; her laugh was like the water to the flowers- heavenly and angelic._

_Afterward, the world became quiet and calm again, but the world inside Zyla's mind was buzzing. She closed her eyes, her head cuddling closer to Spencer, turned towards him. He was peacefully fast asleep, his fingers and legs twitching every so often, his eyelids fluttering. She was so tired, but her mind was racing with thought. She just needed… what did she need?_

_She needed her life back. She needed the last nine years erased from her head, she needed to not be so goddamned damaged and broken because of what that fucker did to her, she needed Spencer to not be bruised along with her because of both her and Andrew. She needed Spencer to be happy, she needed parents who were alive and who care for her so she can have some guidance in this crazy screwed-up situation._

_She was filled with rage. She wanted the world to explain why it did this to her, why she's left with next to nothing. But the thing she wanted most was for every last bastard that ever did her wrong the past decade to pay for the irreversible damage they did to her. She was filled with utter rage for those men, and how none of them regret anything they did, and that they will continue screwing everyone else's life_

_Slowly, she sat up, a deep realization setting in. Once she made the decision, every feeling she had was washed aside, ebbing into a slight dull instead of overriding her in emotions. It needed to be done. She had started this; it was time to end it, or they would come for her._

_Careful to not wake Spencer up, she quickly complied a very small bag together of small essentials, knowing it won't nearly be enough, but it will be enough to get her started and to get some distance between her and Spencer._

_Looking over to her sleeping lover, her heart squeezed in pain. They had just gotten each other back, and now she was disappearing into a dangerous mission, leaving him in the dark. She knew it was an awful thing to do to him, but she was sure that this is what's best. _

_It needs to be done. He's going to get hurt if I don't, she thought, forcing herself to focus back onto her mission._

_When dawn started to approach, Spencer still in a deep but slightly fitful sleep, she scribbled a note down, her hands shaking. Before exiting her childhood home, she paused at the end of the couch, watching over him with a pinched expression. Ever so slowly, she leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry." she whispered, her voice barely audible, the words coming out like a breath._

_When Spencer woke, he woke alone. He was heartbroken, crushed, but he quickly found the note left on the kitchen table. _

I need to do what needs to be done. I'm so sorry. It's not your fault at all; I'm keeping you safe. I love you so much, Spence. Take care of yourself -Z

_And Spencer was alone._

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><p>The night after Andrew and Spencer's fight were loud flashes in her mind as she observed Spencer's quiet apartment. It was exactly how she pictured it: a quiet atmosphere, bookcases lining the room, stray books lying around the place. It was kind of plain, but it was Spencer, and it felt like home. She couldn't help but smile, but she was more ecstatic when she found an old bottle of scotch in one of the pantries, not even opened. She poured herself a glass, knowing Spencer wouldn't care as it had been down there for ages without a sip from it.<p>

Watching the street below the apartment as she sipped her glass of scotch, she saw a taxi pull up and Spencer climb out, quickly coming into the building. A few minutes later, the front door cautiously opened, having been unlocked. Zyla turned from the window, and grinned at him, showing that there was no danger, and he could relax.

He did so in a few moments, looking around his apartment and finding that nothing was out of place, which was strange because Zyla definitely snooped around his things. He nodded towards the glass of scotch in her hand.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked curiously, closing the door behind him. Zyla laughed a little. "Found it in the pantry. It was buried down there without being opened, so I thought you wouldn't mind." she answered. Spencer nodded, hands in his pockets as he waded over to the couch. "How did you get in?" he questioned. Zyla plopped onto the loveseat next to her, and replied with, "Picked the lock."

Silence followed, and neither knew how to break it. Zyla knew that she needed to explain, needed to tell her story, but she didn't know where to start. Spencer mulled over several questions in his mind, not knowing which one to start with first, but he promptly said without thought, "Why did you run that night, after the hospital? I know why you did it, to stop Andrew, but… why did you leave?" He had somewhat asked the question that'd been on his mind for years: why did you leave _me_?

Zyla exhaled, running a hand through her unwashed blonde hair. "That answer requires more of a story to explain." she said, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees and her hands clapped together. Spencer sat in the same position on the couch across from her, and waited. She sighed again, but began explaining what her life had been like in the past thirteen years.

"You know, the first couple years Andrew and I were together, it was fine. I wasn't overall happy, but it was better than what was to come. It started after Frank died when we were twenty, and Andrew became the president of Liberated in his place. Liberated had a statewide system of drug-trafficking, but when Andrew took over, the system took over half of the country. They began making the drugs, not just buying and selling," Zyla rubbed her hands together nervously.

"From the stress of the system, Andrew began to drink; a lot. And when he started to drink, he became… aggressive," Zyla paused, taking a deep breath. It was hard to talk about what he did, but even harder to explain it to Spencer, who had hurt and anger flash across his face. She continued on anyway, knowing that she needed to get down to the nitty details, no matter how much it hurt either of them. It was time to tell him everything.

"He shoved me around at first, when I didn't do something right away or said something I shouldn't've. Of course, being me, I fought back at him," she spit in disdain, face scrunched. "And that just made him angrier, so he hit me. Slapped me, shoved me, threw me to the ground. He called me 'slut', and 'bitch', and 'whore', and told me horrible things, like I was nothing and a waste of space," she paused, tears in her eyes. She downed the rest of her scotch for some liquid courage, setting it aside, before speaking again. "After a while, I think I started to believe it."

Spencer felt like his chest was collapsing, and he reached over and grabbed her shaking hands in his, trying to stroke her skin with his thumbs in comfort. She smiled in appreciation, and blinked away her tears, taking another deep breath.

"Anyway. The system was growing, Andrew was drinking, and I was basically trapped with him. And then Mom died. Andrew and I went to the service, because it was the least I could do. Even though she was kind of a crappy mother… she was still my mom. I still loved her even though when I was younger I thought I shouldn't because she always ignored me. But I knew she still loved me." Zyla murmured, her eyes looking wet again and far-off. Spencer squeezed her hands.

"Of course she did," Spencer told her. "You were her daughter." Zyla smiled at him again, squeezing his hand back. She continued her story.

"Andrew and I went, and then I saw you there. And… it gave me hope that I could leave. So when you called me, I ran, even though I knew that if I was caught, Andrew was likely to- beat me senseless," Zyla shook her head at the thought. "And then… you know what happened from there. The fight… everything after that."

At the mention of that night, Spencer's ears turned a little pink, and he looked down at their hands, a small smile curving his lips. Zyla smiled a little too, watching him gaze away in his usual shyness.

Clearing his throat, he looked back up. "And after that night?" he asked.

She hesitated for only a moment. "I told you that I needed to do what needed to be done. I knew that the Liberates would post bail for Andrew, and his first mission would to track me down and find me. I knew all their secrets, and their system, so I needed to be taken out," she paused again, exhaling slowly before giving Spencer a small smile. "I was so angry. I was furious at what Andrew and that damn gang did to me, so I decided to take them all down. Stop Andrew, and break the system. Let Liberated disappear until there's nothing left."

Spencer raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You made a plan to single-handedly take down a national drug trafficking organization?"

Zyla grinned a Chesire-like grin. "Not just made a plan, Spence; I achieved it."

Spencer sat in skeptic silence, gaping at her. She continued to grin, even as she stood to pour another glass of scotch, standing in the kitchen. While he remained on the couch, she continued, "And it wasn't just me. The Las Vegas Police Department, while kind of annoying and slow, helped me out and arrested the people I took down."

"How did you do it? You're not even qualified for something like that!" Spencer exclaimed, rising from the couch to stand across from her at the kitchen counter while she handled her liqueur. Zyla scoffed quietly, rolling her eyes. "I went through the FBI Academy, Spence. Twenty week long course. Plus, I have two PhDs in Psychology and Sociology," she smirked at him. "Don't think you're the only smart one here, boy-genius."

Spencer did a double take, his eyebrows scrunched. He was quiet for a moment, until his curiosity got the best of him. "How did you find the time and money for two PhDs?" Zyla now had her eyebrows scrunched together, lips pursed. "Well, one- I went to school, two- when your boyfriend trafficks drugs, it makes quite a lot of money, and three- uhm, I'm a genius?" Her tone was sarcastic, but her face showed amusement. Spencer still looked unconvinced, so she rolled her eyes, and changed the subject.

"On the meaning of how, it was quite easy when you were living with the gang for almost a decade of your life. Even though Andrew was abusive, he did let me in on a lot of things he did, and I even got to supervise some of them. I had the information I needed, the team from LVPD for my back-up, and the rage to fuel me for four years," she shook her head, in deep-thought. "It wasn't a walk through the park, I'll tell you that. After I left, Andrew gave the guys a rough time, and increased their demands. They got more security, and the system became more low-key. I started with the smaller trafficking parts; the people who delivered and received. Then I had to take down the manufacturers and the big guys behind the curtains all in one, because they knew something was going on. I had a lot of close calls."

Spencer nodded slowly, his gaze away from her. "Like in New York." he spoke, his stiff voice making it sound more like a statement. Zyla answered with a few small nods of her head. "Andrew's right-hand man shot me. At that point, it was only the close circle left of Liberated, like eight or nine guys, with Andrew. Most I had taken down, and some had run off. And they were _ferociously_ angry with me. Like, '_put my head on a stick and wave it around'_' kind of angry," she laughed a little. Spencer looked slightly horrified.

"After I ran from the hospital, I tracked down the rest of the group, which was only a few guys. A couple had been killed. I guess Andrew didn't think they were loyal enough," her voice faltered for a moment. "After a few weeks, it was just Andrew. He had gone completely mad; he-he killed people, _random_ people. I tracked him down and tried to stop him from killing that woman, but I got stupid and blind and he knocked me out. I woke up in the warehouse and tried to escape, but he found me and, well… attacked me. He tried to kill me, but this time I fought back." Her gaze was distant, and she ran a hand through her disheveled hair. She leaned her elbows forward on the counter, exhaling softly. "I knocked his gun away from him. He grabbed a knife out of his boot and slashed my shoulder. I kicked him down to the ground, and the knife fell out of his hands. He grabbed his gun again, and I got mine out. He tried taking a couple shots, but then a few moments after that you guys came in."

Her story done, Zyla downed the rest of her glass in one gulp again. She winced at the brief burn in her throat. Now that she was done talking, she realized how exhausted she was. Her whole body throbbed with bruises and scrapes from her brawl with Andrew, and her shoulder was sharp in pain. She didn't realize how much involvement she had in telling her story. She was also quite dizzy as well from all the alcohol she had been drinking, and the pain medicine she took for her stitched shoulder.

Not only that, but she was in desperate need of a shower. She felt like she had on a whole body layer of dirt on her skin, and she didn't remember the last time she had washed her hair. She subconsciously flinched, shuddering slightly.

Spencer mulled over at the surprising load of information he had received. He studied her, trying to figure what she was thinking. Trying to figure out how damaged she was.

"Before we continue this, Spence, it'd be really nice if I could shower and sleep and eat, like, an actual meal. Do you mind?" she asked, already moving forward. He was quick to comply to her. "Of course not. Bathroom's first on the right. I can make up my bed for you while you're showering. I can sleep on the couch" he said, speaking fast. He avoided her gaze as he moved into the living room to tidy.

Feeling somewhat guilty, she hesitated before going down the hall, her hand leaning against the wall. She darted her tongue out to lick her chapped lips. "Spence," she said softly. He stopped moving things, keeping his head down. He swallowed, fingers twitching. Zyla shuffled over to him, fingers knotting together, before she took his hands. She moved them around herself, and wrapped her arms around his slim body, hugging him tightly. He was quick to respond. He embraced her gently, being careful of her injuries, but she didn't seem to even notice. Her hold on him was tight. She buried her face into his neck, and he closed his eyes, touching his head with hers.

"I missed you." he murmured into her hair. She exhaled heavily through her nose, nodding, her head cuddling closer to him.

They stayed in an embrace for a few moments, until Zyla pulled away. She had a warm minute smile of gratitude, or appreciation, maybe. His lips curved up briefly in response. She walked down the hall and into the bathroom without another word.

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><p><strong>AN: **Oh my god, I cannot ask you to forgive me enough for not updating for so long! It's been difficult to do anything lately because I've been busy and just other things have been going on in my life, and for some reason this chapter was difficult to write. But here's a really long one to try to make up for it.

Anyway, there's Zyla's life in the past decade or so. Rough life, my poor baby. Plus, the first time the two of them… did it *winky face*

Tell me what you guys think- reviews are always welcome! And thank you all for being so patient and awesome!


	7. Chapter 7

**Two Minds & All the Places They Have Been**

Chapter Seven / Conversations & Bruises

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><p><em><strong>warning: mentions of PTSD<strong>_

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><p>Zyla stood naked in front of the mirror, teeth clenched as she looked over her battered body. Over the years, she had collected scars across her body, and they all have a story. Most are nightmares she would not like to think about. But there they were, marking her body and laughing at her as she stood in the silence of the bathroom. Bruises old and new littered her skin, looking almost like the colors of the night sky and she pushed the skin with her forefinger, wincing a little. She looked over her pale body, pressing her fingers against her ribs and hips, noticing for the first time that she could almost see the bone. She supposed that her meals had become less frequent and scattered throughout the day as she hunted for the gang, but she never really knew the actual damage it had on her body. She had been always too busy looking behind her as she ran across the country to worry about her own health. She admitted that that was kind of stupid thinking now.<p>

She didn't eat a lot, she drank more than probably necessary, she only got a few hours of sleep each night before moving on, she had nightmares, she slept with a gun under her pillow in fear, and she was constantly stressed; looking back on the past years, Zyla realized how far deep she had gone, and she was now terrified that she could never get back.

Swallowing, she turned from the mirror and turned the shower on, the mirror she had been staring in slowly started to fog over. She stepped in and slowly started to wash her hair, her muscles relaxing under the spraying hot water. Closing her eyes, her hands clasped behind her neck and her arms meeting in front of her, elbows touching, she stretched her neck from side to side, her eyes feeling more and more sleepier as she stood under the water long enough.

After she rinsed the soap and shampoo off, Zyla turned the knob of the shower off and wrapped herself in a clean fluffy towel, drying off. Only a few moments into drying herself off from the water, she realized that she had absolutely nothing to wear that was clean. She wrapped the towel around herself and peeked her head through the door, staring down the lit hall. She was about to call out for Spencer when she noticed something dark on the floor. Zyla looked down and saw a pile of neatly folded pajamas. She brought them inside, staring them over. They were all Spencer's clothes- a long sleeved black shirt, a pair of gray and black boxers, and pajama bottoms.

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she dressed in just the boxers and shirt, both just a little too big on her. She folded the pajama bottoms up again nicely, hung up her wet towel, and balled up her old clothes with a grimace on her face. They were covered in dirt, and the shirt had blood soaked into it from her shoulder, and they just smelled and felt gross. After a moment's thought, she threw them away in the wastebasket underneath the sink, and headed out the door.

Now having showered, Zyla felt much better. Her muscles were relaxed, her skin was smooth, and her hair was actually, like, clean. On the road, she tried to shower, or at least wash her hair, as much as she could, but sometimes it was difficult because of where she was, what resources she had, or how much time she had before she had to move on. However, now that being filthy was off her mind, she thought about how starving she was, and immediately detoured to the kitchen.

Spencer was in there making a cup of coffee, eyes unfocused as his brain whirred away, deep in thought. Zyla didn't bother him as she began to rummage through his fridge and pantries for food, humming a little as she did. She pulled several snacks out as she picked through the cabinets and fridge, eating some of them and putting some of them back after a moment's thought. Her stomach grumbled loudly and she grimaced as she began eating the food she had scrounged, leaning on the kitchen counter.

Zyla watched Spencer as he buried himself in his own thoughts. She knew that he might need some time to think over and process everything that had happened and everything she had told him about the past.

As she munched on crackers and fruit and the like, she thought over what will happen in the future. Where would she live? What would she do? She had spent so much time going after Andrew and the group that she had forgotten how to live domestically like Spencer did. She had never put thought to what she would do if she succeeded her goal and lived. Her eyebrows furrowed as she slowed her chewing.

My god, she thought to herself. I'm going to have to get a _job_. Like, a _proper_ job.

Several questions about what was next flooded her thoughts. Of course, she'd need a paying job, and where would she live? Would she get her own place? Would she move in with Spencer? Was she even mentally capable of getting a job after everything that had happened? And what about the relationship between her and Spencer- it was quite clear on how they felt, but she thought back to her mental stability. Is she even able to uphold a relationship like that? And is that fair to Spencer?

"What are you thinking about?" Spencer's question jolted her from her thoughts, and she blinked lazily back into the present. She shrugged in response to his question, and began to clean up her mess, now feeling satisfied. "Just… what's next, I guess." she answered, her voice sounding detached. Spencer studied her a moment more, observing her movements.

"And what's next?" he asked softly, wanting to know himself. Zyla wished either one of them knew. It would make the whole thing easier, to be honest.

Instead of answering and going deeper into it, she shrugged in response and straightened up. She sighed, and looked over at the clock. She almost groaned when she realized that it was almost four a.m. She was absolutely exhausted. Her body felt like goop and the only thing she could think of was collapsing somewhere and sleeping for ten hours.

"Let's deal with all that stuff another day," she said faintly, a tired small smile curved on her lips. Spencer nodded, and there was a brief tense silence. He said that he'd sleep on the couch, but they've slept together before. Why would it be weird if they did now? She felt bad that he was kicking him out of his bed after the long day they've had.

But they weren't fifteen anymore. They weren't in Las Vegas, and their only problems weren't the test they had Monday or the bullies at school. They were both different people now; they had changed and grown, and been through dark times that still haunts them to the day.

Finally Zyla turned and walked down the hall to the room. She opened the door to the dark room, and barely had time to pull up the blankets before falling asleep on top of them.

* * *

><p>Zyla's life became a whirlwind of overwhelming uncomfortableness. As the aftermath of recent events began to settle down between the two, the shock starting to wear off, each of them realized that they had to deal with real life and make decisions. Zyla especially.<p>

Her whole life the past few years was run, hide, hunt. It was tough to just break from those routines and instincts that had been installed in her for four years. As she stayed with Spencer, he began to realize that too, when she would tense in silence and watch every moving thing at all times, keeping her eyes on everything. She barely slept- if she's not waking up almost screaming from nightmares, then she's staring at the ceiling or doing something else to keep her mind occupied. Once Spencer woke at three in the morning to her baking.

Spencer knew from his mental knowledge that she was suffering from PTSD, along with anxiety and maybe a little depression too. But she shared none of her thoughts or feelings about this with Spencer, and he was too afraid to ask her. Of learning the truth or her reaction to him asking, he didn't know.

While living in denial, Zyla spent her time thinking about the future. Where will she live? What will she do? What about her and Spencer? Not only did she not know what Spencer wanted, but she didn't even know what she wanted. She was afraid of the future, but she knew that it was coming whether they liked it or not. At some point, one of them will speak up and decide. But for her, it wasn't soon. For him, it wasn't soon enough.

Eventually Spencer had to go back to work, and Zyla would be alone, then, in the apartment, wandering alone with her mind. That, she knew very well, could be very dangerous.

It was the weekend before Spencer started up work again. The apartment was quiet, as was the rest of the city. For Zyla, the day had been filled to the brink with activities and things to do and see, things to occupy her with so she wouldn't have to let herself think for too long. For Spencer, it had been long as he silently watched Zyla's every move, calculating her mental and emotional state and knowing it wasn't good. All day he had been gnawing away inside himself with worry and anxiety about her well-being and the confrontation they'd eventually have.

The conversation that loomed nearer and nearer was settling just above them in the silent, tense room. As Zyla busied herself with crude sketchings in a notebook, Spencer watched her from the corner of her eye. Zyla wasn't stupid or dull; she knew that Spencer had been watching her like a hawk, and it was freaking her out even more than she already was. She was put on edge from his constant stare, whether or not he was actually physically watching her.

One of them would break soon, they both knew it. It was just a game of who first, and what will happen when it does.

After a few more minutes of the complete silence, other than the Zyla's pencil scratching along the paper, they found that Spencer won the game.

"Would you stop it?" Zyla snapped. Her voice sounded incredibly loud and booming from its suddenness in the quiet apartment. Spencer looked up at her with wide eyes, still quiet but trying to think of what to say. "You've been staring at me for days, and it's driving me absolutely crazy. I'm sick of you watching me every time I breathe so you can make sure I don't break or something."

Spencer narrowed his eyes just slightly, voice caught on concern. "I'm worried about you. We both know that you're not doing well from everything that's happened, and while it's not common, it's normal. You know, seven to eight percent of the population will get PTSD in their lives-"

"What? I do _not _have PTSD, Spencer. For Christ's sake," she faltered in disbelief. Spencer tried to calm her, his voice low. "It's perfectly normal, Zy. It's almost expected, from everything you've been through-" Zyla slammed her journal down on the coffee table, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before speaking. "Spencer. I'm fine. I don't have PTSD. Yeah, sure, I have nightmares sometimes and stuff, but that's kind of normal."

"You've been eating only about one to two meals per day, you only get about three hours of sleep at most every night, and you haven't been out of the apartment since you've gotten here. You're hurt from what happened, and bottling it up and running away from it isn't going to do any good," Spencer stated, his voice quiet but quite serious. Zyla broke eye contact with him, looking away and clasping her hands together. She stayed quiet for a few moments.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper. "How am I supposed to just go back to a normal life after everything that's happened? How am I supposed to move on if I don't know where I'm going? I have no job, and I can't burden you with staying here all the time."

Spencer moved to sit in front of her, taking her hands and smiling at her softly. "No offense, but I don't think you or I have ever had the definition of a 'normal' life," he said, and her lips quirked a little in response. "It's not going to be an automatic thing, healing and accepting what happened. It takes time. I'm going to be here for every step of the way." Zyla gave him a little bigger smile, squeezing his hands.

"As for you and I… I love you, Zyla. I've always loved you, and I always will. I know you're struggling right now, but this… me… it can be home, if you want it to," Spencer spoke, and she was reminded of the shy little boy she had first met when he spoke. She looked at him in slight awe and with hope.

Spencer loves her. Of course she knew that (she'd always known), but in this moment, she didn't know if it had ever felt more defined than now. She began to wonder how she ever doubted him, and how she thought that they'd both get off that easy. She leaned over, tentatively, and kissed him. It was slow, hesitant almost, but it felt warm. It felt like home, and that's something Zyla hadn't felt for a very, very long time. He kissed her back, giving her all the words he didn't say, the ones she desperately needed.

They broke apart, and he hugged her. She curled into him like a child, and they were like that for a very long time before she began to speak. She told him everything- all that happened, all her thoughts and feelings, all her regrets and desires. She asked him the questions she'd been asking for months, or years, and he listened through everything. Ever so patient and understanding, he stayed quiet until she had finished a while later, and even then Spencer just held her while she cried.

Zyla fell asleep soon after, and then Spencer a little bit later- each reveling in the fact that, for the first time in forever, they finally found home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I'm so sorry for not updating in like forever! It's been hard to write lately, and especially for this story- I've had a bit of writer's block lately. Don't know when the next one will be out for sure, but I'm hoping it won't be as long as this one took, ha ha!

Thank you for being wonderful, and please review! Have a lovely day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Two Minds & All the Places They Have Been**

Chapter Eight / On Two Feet

* * *

><p>Things became a little more stable in the apartment. Zyla finally accepted that yes, she needed help, and Spencer helped her through it. She decided to journal and draw to try and help her go through her thoughts, and with that and talking to Spencer, it was actually kind of working. She still had nightmares and triggered panic attacks, and probably still drank a little too much, but it became easier to deal with now that she didn't have to bottle it up and bear it alone.<p>

Somewhat of a routine started to be between the two. Spencer went back to work and had the occasional weekend or day off. Zyla would get up and go for a run, spend some time reading, writing, or drawing, then continue her time lengthily job hunting. So far she hadn't found much of anything with her qualifications (in many places she was very overqualified), and there wasn't many job positions in the FBI she wanted. It was all very frustrating and stressful.

Zyla woke up later than usual. She had hardly gotten any sleep that night from repeatedly waking up and fitfully sleeping, and she felt exhausted. She dragged herself out of bed and went on a hellish run anyway around the park, feeling only slightly more energized than before. After she showered, she decided to pay Spencer a visit, so she bought him lunch on the way and made her way through the BAU security.

She had only brought him lunch a couple of times, but a few people in the building who recognized her smiled at her as she walked by. Getting to the main floor, she noticed it was busy as usual, but Spencer was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, she continued to look around, realizing that none of the team were in there.

"Zyla? What are you doing here?" a woman asked behind her. Zyla turned and was almost taken aback by how much color she was being attacked with from this woman and she immediately recognized her as Penelope Garcia, the team's techie. Getting past the blinding overwhelming color she was first faced with, Zyla smiled at her. She had only briefly met Penelope once before, but she grew an instant liking to her, as she had with the others on the team that she had only briefly met.

"I came to bring Spence lunch, but no one's here." she explained. "Yeah, they just left to board the plane. They have a case in Cleveland." Penelope told her. Zyla frowned again. Spencer hadn't told her about another case, and he hadn't called her yet.

Just as she finished that thought, her phone began to rang. She gave Penelope a look, rolling her eyes, when she realized it was Spencer. She told her to hold a minute, and answered it. "Hey, Zy, it's me. We just got a case in Cleveland, it'll probably be a couple days."

"Yeah, I heard." she sighed, her voice sounding slightly amused. "What? How did you know that we got a case, we just boarded the plane." he exclaimed. Zyla laughed slightly. "I'm here at the BAU. The one time I try to be a good girlfriend and bring you lunch, you board a plane for Cleveland. What a typical guy."

Spencer, on the other end, had turned somewhat red at her mention of "his girlfriend". His stomach fluttered like he was still in high school, and he laughed at her lighthearted sarcasm. "Sorry I couldn't be more original for you. I'll make it up to you when I get back." he said, staring out the window as the plane began to move. He quieted his voice, knowing that his teammates can get nosy.

"I'll hold you to that," she smiled. "Stay safe. Get all the villains for me." Spencer laughed again. "Villains? Since when did I become Superman?" Zyla smiled softly, and was suddenly reminded of the little boy she saved from bullies. She remembered the genius who always one-upped her, but would always buy her her favorite candy after he would because he felt too bad. She remembered the man who fought back against Andrew and protected her when she needed him to. She remembered her best friend throughout years and the person she fell in love with when she was a kid. "You were always Superman, Spence," she responded softly, still smiling slightly. A moment of silence was heard from the other end. "See you back at home."

"Yeah," he finally said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. They hung up, and she turned back to Penelope, who was grinning so hard Zyla thought her cheeks might crack. Zyla stared at her with scrunched eyebrows. "What?" she asked. Garcia just kept smiling, and she asked again.

"It's just.. you guys are so adorable! You two are more adorable than my cat, and that's saying something." she gushed. Zyla laughed at her happiness. "What? We're adorable? Since when?" she joked, laughing. "Two two are cuter than Brad and Angelina, I swear," Penelope laughed. At this, Zyla paused, confused. "Wait, who?"

Penelope actually gasped. "Really? You've never heard of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie? Like, ever? You're more like Reid than I thought- come with me," with this, she grabbed her and began dragging Zyla unceremoniously to her office. Zyla, amused at her antics, kept up with her up to her cave where Penelope burst in and began searching the web for all things Brad and Angelina.

At some point during the lesson, Penelope began teaching her about all the other important famous people ("Wait, why are the Kardashians famous again?") and the amazing world of social media. While on the run, Zyla never tuned into news or anything like that, and she didn't care much about it even before that, but she found the intensity of Penelope's excitement about it very amusing. They bonded over Penelope's social and technical world, stories from Zyla, and they both began eating the lunch Zyla bought for Spencer, seeing it was going to go to waste anyway since he wasn't there.

"-so I had gotten lost downtown at some point in the night and ended up God knows where in the middle of the city, and it's about three o'clock in the morning at this point and I've tried calling Spencer and my mom and nobody answers and I don't have any money for a cab. Somehow I ended up in the casino playing this guy who was trying to sell me drugs and I stole like a hundred dollars from him or something, and then I tried to get back home. Anyway, long story short, I ended up getting into a fight with him and the drugs spill everywhere and the cops arrest the both of us-" she was interrupted by Penelope's computers ringing, signaling a video call. Each were still laughing slightly, Penelope mostly in shock and slight disbelief, when she answered it.

"Hello, crime fighters, what have you got for me?" she asked, but was dismissed at first when the team realized that Zyla was in the background, getting ready to leave.

"What are you doing there?" Spencer asked. "Pen and I ate the lunch you abandoned and I learned about something called Justin Bieber," she said simply, smiling widely. She walked out the door saying her goodbyes. Behind her, she could hear Spencer ask who that was, and she began laughing again.

* * *

><p>Zyla stopped by a cafe on her way back, deciding to take a walk around the park as it was a nice day. As she finished paying, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around. A scraggly-looking guy was grinning at her widely, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a coffee cup in his hand. His hair was sticking up in a messy sort of way, and a scruffy beard made his jawline and cheekbones more pronounced. He was wearing a stained white t-shirt, rugged denim jeans, and silver dog-tags around his neck. It took Zyla a moment to recognize her old friend, but when she did, her face broke open into a laughing grin and the two hugged tightly.<p>

"Seb, I can't believe you're here!" she exclaimed, happy.

He smelled like old cigarettes and liquor, but there was the smell of laundry detergent and citrus underneath that. Zyla pulled back, amazed that she had found her old friend in Quantico, of all places.

"Here to see you, sunshine," he smirked. At her confused look, he laughed and booped her nose, like an older brother-like way. His laughter was like a deep chuckle, and it sounded friendly and familiar. She smiled back at him. "I own the bail bonds place down the street, been here for a few months now. Decided to move up in the world. What about you? Why are you here in the great town of Quantico, Virginia?"

As the two started walking through the park, she told him everything that had happened since they had last met two years ago. Running from Andrew, finding Spencer again, Andrew being arrested, and now she was living with Spencer and desperately trying to put everything behind her.

After she had finished, Seb didn't say much. "Well, shit, sunshine." he stated, slight bewilderment in his smirk, taking his cigarette out of his mouth with two fingers and stomping on it. Zyla rolled her eyes at his blunt statement, but her lips curved up in an amused smile. "You've been through a right whole mess, haven't you?"

Zyla sighed, watching the people in the park mill around as they slowly walked. "Well, you know. I've always seemed to have a knack for trouble, as Spencer would say," she squinted at Seb through the sunlight. "Now if only that trouble could do something useful, like find me a job. I've been trying forever."

A moment's pause, then, "Come work for me."

Zyla actually stopped, turning to face him, eyebrows raised. "What, really? You want me to be a bounty hunter or something? You do realize that I have two PhDs and I'm an FBI graduate."

"Oh, c'mon, Zy, if you wanted to work for those suits then you would be. Come work for me and you'll be having loads more fun, and you'll get to see this pretty face every day." he grinned. Zyla rolled her eyes again, but then actually started considering it. It wouldn't be that bad, would it? She didn't want to do it the rest of her life, but it could be good for a while. She really needed a job. She was certainly qualified enough, and she _would_ be able to see Seb more.

"Not to mention that you're currently unemployed right now." he chimed, interrupting her thoughts. She chuckled and playfully hit his arm. She bit her lip in thought, then slowly started nodding. "Okay, maybe. I'll think about it, alright?"

Seb grinned even wider, laughing in victory. They exchanged numbers and hugged goodbye, Zyla telling him that this was _not_ a yes, it was a _maybe_. He continued to grin, because he knew that she would eventually succumb and call him. She went back to her lonely apartment, his job offer still on her mind, even when she said goodnight to Spencer and went to sleep.

* * *

><p>Sebastian Prince hadn't gotten much sleep that night. He usually didn't anyway, but he couldn't get his exchange with Zyla out of his mind. They had become quite close in the short time they spent together, and he had to admit that he had developed feelings for her at the start. How couldn't he? She was gorgeous, brilliant, and hilarious. She was a great friend to him in a time of need, and vise versa.<p>

But she was quite clear for her feelings for Spencer, so Seb never acted on his feelings, and he got over it after she left. He had briefly moved onto _her_, but even she left in the end.

He ran a hand through his scraggly hair, setting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it as he sighed, blowing smoke into his dim bedroom. He couldn't think about that now. The clock on the bedside table ticked on into the early morning, sun rays peeking through his blinds as it rose in the sky. He finished his cigarette slowly, enjoying the silence of his apartment as the day began to start.

At around eight in the morning, his phone began to ring, snapping him out of his exhausted trance. He grinned when he saw Zyla's name, knowing that she would accept his offer. After all, he was irresistible.

"Good morning, sunshine. Did you have a good rest, sleeping beauty?"

Zyla chuckled on the other end, still half-asleep from recently waking up. She was currently curled on the couch with a cup of coffee, having mulled over her and Seb's meet up the previous day for about half an hour before she made up her mind and decided to call him. "Wonderful, Prince Charming. And yours?"

"Even better now that you've called. Anything you've decided? Want to share with the class?"

"Alright, alright, I get it, okay? I'll take it. I'll take the job, but only because I need one, alright?"

Sebastian laughed in victory, grinning. "Keep telling yourself that, sunshine."

Zyla chuckled again, fighting back a yawn as her stomach growled. "I've gotta go. Need to call Spence to tell him the good news," she paused for a second. "Thank you, Seb. Really."

Sebastian smiled. It's true that he didn't have feelings for her anymore, but damn, she could still make him smile so easily.

"Don't mention it. I have a rep to maintain. You start on Monday, sunshine."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Again, I am sorry for the long period between updates! With everything going on, it gets hard to try to find a good time to write. I'm not going to promise anything about the next update, but hopefully it should be relatively soon. I hope you aren't finding this story too boring for now; I do have big plans in the future! By the way, my face claim for Sebastian is Robert Pattinson (more specifically, from his role in "Remember Me").

Reviews are always fully appreciated and responded to. Thank you for your patience and support.


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